


Of Joy and Pain

by AeolianMode



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Romance, Autism Spectrum, F/M, Human Cole, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Romance, Sickfic, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeolianMode/pseuds/AeolianMode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came out of a Rift, but she's just an ordinary person. Well, as ordinary as her circumstances can lend her to be, anyway. She could be just a drop in the ocean of chaos in Cole's world- or the straw breaks the camel's back. Spoilers for Cole's personal quest and Asunder. Sequel to Of Flesh and Bone. Also on FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cole: Chase

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is going out of my usual style and is HIGHLY experimental, but I feel quite inspired lately and I want to try my hand at something a bit daring. I do hope I write this OC well- the idea's been tumbling around in my head for quite some time and there's a lot of potential for error. Please bear with me, and thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm not usually one to leave very long notes on my work, but I just wanted to give a head's up- this story will deal more acutely with my particular headcanon for Cole: that he is an asexual and neurodivergant person. Also, my OC is neurodivergant. I myself am neuroatypical, but this will be the first time I've attempted to write characters of this nature more acutely than I tried in "Of Flesh and Bone." If you feel my representation of the characters seems lacking, please let me know, as I would like to be a better writer and am always open to critique.
> 
> Thank you.

A girl fell out of the Rift.

Cole saw it happen. As the smoky haze of the Rift began to close, she dropped ten feet down into the snow, naked and motionless as a newborn babe. Those who watched, stunned into silence, stood and stared with disbelief, staves and swords at the ready, breaths heavy in their chests. No one moved, approached her, or spoke. For several moments they just waited. Waited for something to happen.

So Cole waited too. He saw the Inquisitor creep towards the body, footsteps crunching too-loud in the silence of snow. His thin lips pressed into a line and his brow furrowed beneath a curtain of dark hair. It became obvious to Cole that he had no idea what he was looking at.

Varric's voice came next. "Is that… supposed to happen?" He shifted his crossbow, Bianca, onto his back and lifted a hand to rub his unshaven chin with a confused squint.

"I… don't…" Inquisitor Khyran's voice trailed. "Is she… alive?" His staff lowered towards the young woman's body and nudged her shoulder. Cole half expected her to move, but she didn't.

"Better yet, is it a demon?" Asked Dorian, tugging his furs against his chest. "Can never be too sure with this Fade stuff."

"If only Solas were here…" Khyran paused. His eyes trailed to Cole. "Do… you think...  **you** could tell me if she's a demon or spirit?"

Cole did not know how to answer. Once, he was a spirit. He had come through too far to the other side, first taking human flesh and then taking human thoughts, human feelings, human needs. He felt only a small piece of the Fade singing to him now, sometimes so softly he could barely hear its melody. So he answered the Inquisitor honestly: "I don't know."

He walked forward regardless, his steps light, his fingers anxiously tugging at his jacket. He saw her more clearly now. Cole knew that demons often came through the Rifts in the Veil, thrust unwittingly from the Fade into the natural world, but the figure lying curled and stark-brown against the snow failed to make Cole think of a demon. The woman was thin, a cloud of black hair flowing over shoulders, covering her back. Her face was half-buried in snow, but Cole thought she looked not much younger than he, himself. He noticed a pointed ear, poking out from beneath her hair. An Elf.

He crouched next to her, trying to look more closely at her face. "Wandering like walking underwater… wind whistles, where…? Lost, lonely, left where I should not be…" His hand slipped from his jacket and edged toward her face.

A finger touched her cheek and she bolted upright with a cry. Brown eyes wide, wild, her gaze jerked between the faces staring at her and in moments she was afoot. She spun and bolted. Cole saw Khyran try to snag her shoulder. He only grabbed at a clump of hair which pulled free in his hands. Cole leapt to his feet. He heard Dorian and Varric yell something behind him, but all he could see was the girl's retreating figure as she sped into a copse of trees. He sprinted after her, crying, "wait!"

Khyran ran a step behind him. Cole saw the girl fling back her arm and  **something** hurtled towards them. The air shimmered as if alive. He ducked. The something hit Khyran and he heard the Inquisitor yelp and tumble into the snow. Cole kept running.

He dodged and ducked under tree branches. He jumped over rocks and slid down a snowy hillside. He leapt across jagged stones. The girl suddenly stopped running and he stopped too. The girl teetered on the edge of a cliff. Cole flung his hand out and snagged her arm. "I'm sorry!" he said. She shrieked. She twisted and writhed, balling up her other fist and flailing it against him so fast her arm blurred.

 _Thwap_. A pain needled into his left eye.  _Thwud_. His nose stung.  _Thump. Thwump. Thwap._  Her fist connected with his shoulder, his chest, his jaw. Still he held her tighter, drawing her backwards, away from the cliff. His grip was crushing. He didn't want to grab her. He didn't want to hurt her. But there was no other way.

"Don't run away! You'll die!" He gasped.

Her squirming and flailing eased.  _Thwip. Fwip. Fwp._ Her clenched fist stopped hitting him until it was tapping, touching, gone.

"Please don't go. You'll die." Cole said. He felt distraught. His throat burned from running, and the cold air in his lungs felt too heavy. He felt a bruise blooming on his face. Several bruises. "I'm going to let go now. Don't run away." He looked into her face pleadingly, peering from beneath his messy blond hair and the shadow of his hat.

He couldn't tell if she understood or not. Her face was wild with fear, pain. He felt it in her heart, heard the cacophony of confusion tumbling and twisting in her head. He slipped his jacket off his shoulders and draped it over her. She didn't move or speak, her eyes never broke from his face. The jacket couldn't cover her, but at least it was something.

He saw the girl's eyes suddenly dart over his shoulder and she stiffened. Cole reached out and took her arm again, gentler this time, and looked behind him.

Khyran was standing above them on a rock. Behind him, Varric and Dorian peered uneasily at the girl.

"What's going on, Cole? Do you see anything in her?" Khyran asked, hardly louder than a whisper. He reminded Cole of people who watched butterflies- trying not to move or speak too loudly for fear of scaring them off.

"She's lost." Cole replied.

"We gathered that much. Is she a demon?"

"No."

"Spirit?"

"No."

"What is she?"

"Lost."

* * *

It took a great deal of coaxing, but the girl finally relented. She followed Cole back to the campsite, where two tents and a blazing fire greeted them against the shelter of a mountainside. The girl wore Cole's jacket as well as the Inquisitor's black cloak. It draped over her fully, and she clutched it desperately to her chest.

She plopped down to the fire and nearly stuck her hands in it. Cole made a grab at them to swat them away, then realized that the fire coiled around, not through, her outstretched arms, refusing to touch flesh as if an invisible wall kept them safe. Cole found sitting near the fire made his nose sting all the more, but he tried not to mind. Varric had taken a poultice and rubbed it over his bruises. His eye had swollen shut, but Varric assured him he wasn't blind. He'd be fine.

"So if she's not a demon and she's not a spirit…" Varric said where he sat on a nearby log, polishing Bianca's grip.

"She's a Mage. Obviously." Said Dorian, sipping from a cup of steaming tea. "She hit you with a wave of force earlier, correct?" He tilted his head in Khyran's direction. "And look at her now. The fire obeys."

"Yes, but… I thought being in the Fade bodily was… well. Nearly impossible." Khyran said.

" **You're**  saying that?" Dorian chuckled. "You've been in the Fade bodily twice.  **Twice**!"

"Yes, but I'm… well.  **Me**!"

"So a girl fell out of the Fade and  **you're** the first person to find it absurd?" Dorian chuckled again. "Let's see here… ah, yes!  **You** fell out of the Fade eight months ago!"

"Well,  **she** doesn't have an Anchor." Khyran gestured to the girl who all but crouched over the fire.

"How do you know she doesn't have some other sort of wonderfully complicated magical ailment?"

"Well, if you can get her to explain it, please do so, Dorian." Cole thought Khyran sounded annoyed.

The girl appeared to have no idea they were talking about her. She didn't look at anyone or speak. She hadn't said a word the entire time. Cole remained at her side, watching her face for any sign that she might be listening, but there was nothing. For all he knew, she didn't understand a word anyone was saying.

"Well, if Cole's certain she's not a spirit, the question remains." Dorian mused, tugging at his moustache. "Where did she come from? And where is her home?"

"I suppose we should look around nearby villages." Khyran said, "see if anyone knows of a missing girl… but… I don't know of very many Elven clans in this area."

"She's not Dalish, she doesn't have the tattoos." Said Varric.

"True. I suppose looking around the area is our best bet. If… nothing else, she'll come back to Skyhold with us until we find out where she belongs." Khyran was already packing up his things, shoving his camping equipment into his backpack.

"All this assuming she actually can't explain it and isn't just pulling our legs." Dorian raised a brow at the girl. "Judging by the circumstances, I highly doubt it."

"Is there anything else you can sense in her, Cole?" Varric asked, sliding down from the tree stump and latching Bianca onto the holster on his back.

"She is… scared, but less now." Cole answered as he watched the shadows dance on her face, flickering from the fire. She still didn't look at anyone. "I think she will come with us. I'm… sorry. It's hard to hear her. Her thoughts are… deeper."

He felt Varric pat his back. "You're alright, Kid. We'll do the best we can."


	2. Khyran: Fire

"Have you seen this girl before?"

Everyone answered the question the same way. They'd stare, squint, then shake their heads. The longer people failed to recognize her, the more helpless Khyran felt. The cold air bit his reddened cheeks and needled right through his clothes. Thoughts of a hot meal and warm hearth began to outweigh his desire to find where the girl belonged. The sight of smoke and scent of spiced meals wafting out of the chimneys of snowcapped houses made him feel anxious with longing.

The girl shuffled along behind Cole, fingers clutching at the cloak. She bore a deadened expression that made Khyran think of the hostages he had rescued from the Fallow Mire several months ago. He wished there was some way he could tell her it was all going to be alright, that she wasn't a lamb being led to slaughter. She remained a mute enigma.

And poor Cole looked more miserable as the minutes ticked by. Every time Khyran looked over his shoulder at him, he saw the young man rubbing at his cracked lips or tenderly touching at his swollen eye. Whatever blood oozed from his purpled lips had frozen there, giving his mouth a misshapen look. If anyone asked Cole a question, he seemed too distracted to answer clearly, and his words came slurred.

Two hours passed and Khyran felt he must have talked to every person in the entire village. He had knocked on every door he could see. He accidentally knocked on the same door twice, profusely apologizing to the grizzled old man inside before the door was shut loudly in his face.

"Let's face it, Shy Khy." Varric patted a frigid hand against his back as he turned away from the door. "Nobody here knows who she is. Let's just get out of here. I don't know about you, but I think my toes are going to fall off. I can't imagine she's doing much better. And Cole looks like he's going to shrivel up and blow away if we gave him the chance."

He gave a reluctant nod. "You're right. There's not much else we can do here."

"To Skyhold, then?" Dorian asked with a hopeful smile.

Khyran nodded. He wasn't confident he would've found out anything about the girl to begin with, but at least he could say that it wasn't for lack of trying. He turned and began to head for the village gates, followed at his heel by his stiff and miserable companions. Just as he reached the great wooden gates at the end of the cobblestones, he heard a quick patter of footsteps behind him.

"Hey, wait!" A voice called.

The Inquisitor turned and saw a man wearing expensive-looking furs and embroidered silks approach them from the market square, nearly breathless as he approached. "You found a lost girl, correct?"

"Yes," said Khyran, his heart swelling with hope. "Do you know anything about her?"

The well-dressed man's eyes fell on her and widened. He approached her, hands outstretched, then reached forward to cup her cheeks. The girl watched him warily, stiff and bristling like a cat who could not decide to attack or run. Khyran thought there was something… uncomprehending behind those wide eyes.

"My dearest Vanessa, it really is you!" The man exclaimed. "Let's go home! Everyone's been missing you so terribly!"

"Is she your daughter?" Khyran asked. He wanted to feel excited and hopeful, but he couldn't shake the feeling deep down that something seemed wrong about this. The girl didn't seem to recognize the man at all. It seemed too convenient for this man to suddenly appear, claiming to know her. It felt too good to be true.

"Adopted, of course!" The man said, removing his hands from the girl's cheek and beaming at Khyran. "She went missing months ago! We all thought her dead!" He looked back at her face. "Where was she!? What happened?"

"Well, I'm very happy to have found her." Khyran told him, but for some reason, couldn't bring himself to explain how he had come upon her. As he was about to speak again, Varric interrupted.

"Now wait just one moment." The Dwarf lifted his head to look the man in the eyes. "We went through a lot of trouble to bring her here. Now, I'm sure you're a decent sort, and you understand how expensive travel is in these parts. Do you think you could give us a bit of compensation? Just enough to pay for the supplies we used up to get her here…?"

Something about the way Varric spoke made Khyran realize that he wasn't actually worried about money. And by the look of unease that crossed the man's face, Khyran's hopes gave way to suspicion.

"Of course. Your request is certainly reasonable…" The man patted at his silks and furs, then said, "If you wait here, I'll be back with some sovereigns."

"And leave us to stand around in the cold?" Varric responded. "I expected better treatment for the Inquisition. Show some hospitality!"

"The Inquisition, you say…?" The man blanched, but nodded regardless. "Right this way."

He led them down the cobbled pathways to a rather large cottage at the edge of town. It was built of brick and wood, and the windows were shuttered. After fiddling with a keyring, the man pulled open his door and stepped inside, leaving the door open and gesturing for them to enter. No matter how hard he looked, eyes scanning the interior, Khyran didn't see anything out-of-place about the cottage. For all he could see, it was a typical lodging of one with a higher social class- bookshelves and a desk, a dining area, a kitchen area, a closed door leading to what he assumed was a bedroom.

Yet, there was no doubt in Khyran's mind that the fellow seemed nervous. After everyone had entered, the man launched off to a strongbox near a corner and unlocked it.

"What… what do you believe would be a worthy contribution to the Inquisition?"

"Ten sovereigns sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

The man swallowed thickly, straightening from his strongbox and counting out some coin in his hands. "Ahh… yes. Yes, of course."

Varric stepped forward to claim the coin, but his gaze shifted from the wealthy man's outstretched hand to the closed door. He said nothing, and didn't so much as flinch when the coin dropped into his gloved hands. "Thank you for your cooperation, mister, ah…" Varric finally looked over at the man's face, giving him a wary smile.

"Markus. Markus Fletcher." A pause. "Now, ah. If you could be so kind as to leave me with my daughter…" He stepped forward, circling Varric as if he expected the dwarf to pounce on him. He walked towards the girl, one arm reaching out to claim her.

It wasn't Varric who acted, however. It was Cole. His hand was on the girl's shoulder and his eyes locked with the approaching man. "Markus of masks. Lies on his lips as he leads them away." He said through the numbness in his lips, his eyes glinting and narrowed beneath his hat. "There are people below us."

Markus froze. Everyone stiffened. Khyran looked to Cole and said in a low voice, "where below us?"

Cole pointed to a rug in the corner of the room.

Then, everything happened at once.

Markus jumped forward, a knife appearing in hand. Varric grabbed his crossbow. Dorian flung his staff out. Cole bolted toward the rug. Khyran shouted, "as Inquisitor, I command you to-!" The girl glowed. Something blazing and white-hot burst from her fingertips. Everything flashed so bright and so hot Khyran couldn't see. His eyes burned and he covered them with his hand. He heard someone screaming, felt his flesh searing and staggered back.

"Shit, shit, stop her, shit, shit, shit!" Varric's voice cried above the sound of roaring fire. Khyran fumbled blindly, trying to force his eyes open. Smoke clogged in his lungs and he dipped his head. One eye opened, stinging. Hazy. White, black, grey, red, red, red- there. He saw movement in the smoke and fire. Near the floor, he saw Cole emerging from a trapdoor, turn, and dip his hand down. People were coming up from under the floor, all young girls in threadbare dresses. Cole was trying to lead them to the exit, but the fire was everywhere. He saw Cole drop to his hands and knees, dipping low to the ground, trying to breathe.

He had to do something. Khyran summoned up mana from within him, feeling it prickle from within his chest like pins and needles. Lifting his hands, he tried to control the fire, to guide it away from them, to coax it to die down, to eat it away- anything. He didn't know any sort of magic to cause cold- no will to control ice or water. "Dorian! Help!" Khyran gasped, choking. He couldn't see where Varric or Dorian were. Markus was nowhere to be seen. And the girl was standing in the midst of the flames, hair flowing and arms outstretched. The fire danced around her in a vortex, threatening to devour everything around her.

A figure stepped in the midst of it all, robes charred, face shining in sweat, a shimmering sheen of ice coating his body. It was Dorian. He grabbed the girl and forced her down. She struggled, squirming and screaming. He held her on the ground until she stopped moving. Then, he was on his feet again, staff whirling over his head. Ice sparkled in the air around him. Snow burst in from the windows, shattering through glass. It surged in through the open door, rushing inside as if alive. The air hissed as the ice and snow forced itself over fires, tumbling over hot embers, melting and evaporating. The blazing slowed, the fires dimmed, and the orange and red faded until there was silence.

Then, Dorian dropped to his knees, coughing hoarsely. Everyone was coughing. Khyran saw Cole and the rescued girls still in the corner. He saw them rising from the ground, ashen and singed, but alive. Cole leaned his shoulder against the wall, chest heaving every breath. Khyran turned over his shoulder and saw Varric crouching near the doorway, drenched in sweat and coughing. But he gave the Inquisitor a thumbs-up at his worried look, nodding between wheezes.

The man, Markus, was but a blackened corpse, charred beyond recognition.

"Is… is everyone alright…?" Khyran choked. "The girl. Is she alive?"

"She's fine." Dorian gasped. On the ground, Khyran could see the girl stirring, sitting upright and eyes flashing around the house, as if searching for something. Otherwise, she did not move.

"Cole?"

"That man took girls captive and sold them," Cole explained, his voice heavy with pain and rage. "I got them all out. They'll be free now. He won't be hurting anyone anymore." He wiped at his cheek with his hand, leaving a streak of charcoal. With the rest of his bruises, patches and burns, he looked like some sort of weathered and beaten scarecrow.

The captives were sobbing, frozen in place, all burns and charred knees and blackened hands. Khyran approached them, explained who he was, that they were safe now. He apologized on behalf of the girl, saying that she was an apostate the Inquisition had rescued and was seeking a safe refuge for her. It did not take long for him to learn that these girls had no home to return to. They were all desperate and misplaced, coaxed by a man who had once seemed to have honest and noble intentions.

If Khyran had control of the situation, he would have seen the man arrested to be judged properly in Skyhold. But now, he wasn't sure he cared for protocol. He didn't feel any injustice had been done.

"You can come with us to Skyhold. The Inquisition headquarters in the Frostback Mountains." He had told the girls. "It's safe there. You will be free to recover and forge a new path in life. You don't have to join the Inquisition. We will help you find out what to do."

They had already trusted once. Khyran would not have blamed them if they could not trust again. But they had few options, and considering the circumstances, Khyran didn't see a preferable alternative. Soon they were all out of the house, ignoring the stares of concerned and panicked neighbors. "Inquisition business." Khyran would announce. "Go back to your lives."

The girl responsible for the fire still never spoke. Her expression remained as blank and dead as it had before. Even as Khyran and Dorian did their best to distribute salves and bandaging for burns, trying in vain with what little they had to bring relief, the girl seemed disinterested. Though everyone in the group was in one way burned, she wasn't. She was completely untouched.

"Well, Fiesty. I think I had enough of fire for one day…" Varric sighed as he secured a bandage in place.

" **That's**  your nickname for her?" Dorian laughed. "I was thinking something along the lines of  _Revenant of Destruction_  or  _Harbinger of the All-Consuming Flame_."

"Well, that's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?" Varric tilted his head. "Plus, she's not all that bad. I've seen worse mages.  **Trust**  me."

Judging by Varric's stories of Kirkwall, Khyran knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Is she even safe to bring to Skyhold, Inquisitor?" Dorian turned to shoot Khyran a quizzical look.

Khyran sighed, stepping back from rubbing salve into one of the freed girls' arms. A grimace stretched on his lips as he looked into her wide eyes, still wet with tears and pain. He straightened and heaved a sigh. "I don't know." He answered. "But we can't exactly leave her out here, can we?" He wiped his hands on his robe. "The sooner we get back to Skyhold, the better. We're all tired and sore. We'll figure out what to do with Fiesty later. So long as someone's watching her, I don't think she's going to kill anyone."

"See? It works." Varric gestured to Dorian with an open palm.

There was little else to be decided. If anyone had questions for the Inquisition regarding Markus's life and establishment, he supposed he could expect a letter. He had little time to waste on formalities now. Skyhold awaited them.


	3. Cole: Burden

When she saw the horses waiting at the Inquisition base camp in the region, Feisty had shrieked and launched up the nearest tree. She swung up branches until she was several feet in the air, crouched near the trunk and hugging her knees to her chest. No manner of coaxing could convince her to come down. Eventually, it fell to Cole to climb up, touch her arm, and speak to her in a soothing voice. She relented and began to slip down with him, though she was breathing much too hard and much too fast, eyeing the animals with thinly veiled terror.

Cole had lifted his hand and placed his palm against the white horse's nose, petting it gently, trying to show her it was alright. "See? She's nice!" He had said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. "Let me show you!" He had reached out for Feisty's hand and tried to pull it toward the horse, but she gave another scream, yanked her hand from his grasp, and went right back up the tree again.

Thirty minutes later, Cole managed to get her back on solid ground, but only when the horses were moved several feet away. Feisty stared at the animals from a distance, eyes round as saucers. Khyran stood nearby, rubbing the back of his neck. Varric seemed to be resisting the urge to thud his head against a tree in frustration, and Dorian wasn't resisting at all. The rescued captives who followed them seemed more than eager to leave, having already chosen their horses from the camp and saddled impatiently. Cole listened, and felt everyone's feelings like a whisper in the wind. If the girl wouldn't ride a horse, how would they get her to Skyhold? They wanted to hurry, they were hurting and hungry and heavy. Snow wasn't soft anymore- sharp and soaking when it melted under cloth.

"At least she didn't roast our horses alive," Varric said, "but what are we supposed to do now?"

"Tie her up and sit her down on it." Dorian offered. "We can't stand around and wait for the possibility that she'll come willingly."

The suggestion did not rest well in the minds of the rescued prisoners, and Khyran stiffened. "I'm not tying up anyone."

"Then we'll be waiting here a while." Dorian replied with a heavy sigh. And, as if to punctuate his point, he tugged a book out from his side satchel, leaned his back against a tree, and fumbled open the cover with a numb, stiff finger.

Cole was at a loss. Feisty still watched the animals as if she expected them to charge at her and eat her alive. He shut his eyes, trying to listen past the misery of his companions, trying to isolate her amidst the internal groanings of the others. It was hard. Listening to her was like trying to hear underwater- as if he'd plunged his head into a pool and everything outside was muffled with ripples and echoes. It wasn't that her thoughts were simpler than others. It was that they weren't simple enough.

"It's not safe, it's strange, silent, static. It won't listen. Nothing listens, nothing flows free…" He said. Uncertain of how she would react, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, trying to catch her gaze, draw them away from the horses. He didn't think she could understand him, but he talked anyway. "You came out of the Fade. Have you been there a long time?"

The girl wasn't making eye contact with him. She stared past his shoulder at the horses.

"I came out of the Fade, too. But other spirits aren't like me. I am me, but I still remember some things." He tried to smile, but it was hard, his lips were numb and hurt and stung. "The Fade changes so much but here the changes are different, slower, quieter… and the creatures and the people, it's all very scary. It scared me, too."

That did something. Somehow. She had looked at him then, her eyes locking with his. Did she understand something he said, or was it just the way he said it? He was keeping his voice soft, softer than normal. He hoped it helped.

"If we are going to go to a safer place, we need to do something that is not safe. That is how this world works. We have to do things that are hard to be somewhere better. I… I don't like it. I'm still learning. I'm trying." He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. He hoped it said what he meant without words: trust me.

He began to walk toward the white horse again, backwards, still maintaining eye contact with her. She stared at his face and walked with him. She was still scared, he felt it, but safer. Or braver. So he walked backwards until he felt the horse's warm breath on his back. He could feel Feisty shaking under his hands, but he gave her a reassuring smile.

"See? I am not looking at the horse. I know she is not going to hurt me."

Feisty looked past his shoulder at the horse. Cole could feel her struggling, swallowing back fear. But she reached out, reached past the barrier of uncertainty, and broke free. Her fingers touched the horse's nose and Cole watched. The animal watched with a patient blink, dipping her head a little and pawing at the ground with a hoof.

Cole felt hopeful and satisfied, and with this he released her shoulders. He walked to the side of the horse and nimbly climbed onto her back. Then he dipped his hand down towards Feisty.

She looked, for a moment, horrified. Cole wondered if she might run away again. But she didn't. She trudged toward him and he took her hand. Then he helped her up until she was sitting in front of him in the saddle, stiff as a board, but there.

"You are doing really good. I am happy," Cole said as he took the reins.

He hadn't been paying attention earlier, but now he saw the others. He felt their eyes on his back as he led the horse to the road. Everyone else was looking at him, all curious smiles and relief in their eyes. Though he was glad he helped Feisty, Cole felt suddenly strange. A kind of pressure grew in his gut, twisting it up in knots. It almost made him feel sick. No one said it out loud, but he knew everyone was thinking it.

He had just been tasked with a responsibility greater than he could understand. He wasn't ready.

"And you're sure she's not a demon?"

Their first stop when they arrived at Skyhold was to make sure the rescued girls were taken to the kitchens. They were given meals- hot soup and spiced bread. Then, Khyran asked Cassandra to show them where they could stay and make sure they were comfortable. She obliged, though not without a wary curiosity towards Feisty. Khyran had insisted he would explain it all later, and left the still-suspicious Cassandra with the girls.

Their next stop was Solas's study. Thankfully, the Elf was there when they had arrived, seated at a desk heaped with books and letters stacked so tall Cole wondered why the table didn't bend. Khyran had promptly launched into the tale of how Feisty had arrived into the world through the Fade, that she was a Mage, and that Cole said she wasn't a spirit or demon. Solas had agreed.

"Somehow, this girl was in the Fade physically." Solas explained, "but she is not like Cole. She is not a spirit who formed flesh. She is of our world, at least originally." He rubbed at his chin. "Unfortunately, I don't fully understand how. If she cannot speak, there is no way to ask her what she experienced. It is obvious your Anchor brought her through the tear in the Veil, but there is no way to be certain how she was there to begin with. My only guess is that you originally had something to do with it, Inquisitor."

"Me? I don't remember her at all. There was never a girl like her at any Rift I've ever closed."

"Not that you can remember," Solas continued. "But unless someone managed to harness a similar ancient magic that your Anchor entails to send her bodily through the Veil… you are the only person I can think of that would be able to do it."

"Is it even possible that someone else could have found a power similar to the Anchor that would have sent her through?"

"Possible. But not likely." Solas explained. "They would have had to uncover secrets of the Fade lost to conventional knowledge of magic. Likely something very old and Elven. I would also venture to say if such an alternative to entering the Fade physically exists, Corypheus would have already found it. If not, he is currently searching for such an alternative as we speak. Obviously, we would know if he made such a discovery already."

"Well, I don't remember sending anyone through the Fade physically but once."

Cole remembered that day. He didn't like it when Khyran mentioned it. He tried not to think about it, frowned, focused his thoughts on something else. So he stared at the paintings on the walls and imagined them moving. Feisty was looking at them, too. She didn't look at anything else when she came in. She didn't even give Solas a passing glance.

"It is still possible that you have overlooked something while opening and closing Rifts throughout the several months you have been doing so." Solas continued.

"I think I would've noticed a girl running into one."

"I'm afraid I cannot offer any further explanation, Inquisitor." Solas responded. His face remained impassive, but Cole thought he seemed frustrated- like he was talking to a wall and the wall was talking back, but not moving. "The most likely explanation is that you were involved. The other unlikely option is that she, or someone else, managed to do it. But I do not see specifically how."

Khyran sighed. Then, he continued to speak. "Alright. My second question. Is she safe?"

A faint smile stretched on Solas's lips. "Are you safe, Inquisitor?"

Khyran smiled, too. "No. I don't suppose I am."

"Then I believe the question you really want to ask me is thus: is she good? To this, I am afraid I cannot answer." He then extended a hand towards Cole. "We do not always agree, Inquisitor, but I believe you are wise in these matters. You trusted Cole and allowed him to stay, even though we all knew he was not safe. He is, however, good. No matter the nature of this girl, I believe her intentions will be clear. I support giving her a chance to show us who she is."

"Well, she already set fire to an entire house and nearly roasted us all alive…" Varric piped up from where he leaned near the doorway.

"To kill an evil man." Cole said. "He was going to hurt people."

Varric nodded a little, "that is a good point, Kid. I just think it might be best for us to keep a nice big bucket of water on handy while we're, ah, giving her a chance to show us who she is."

No one could argue with that.

"So my last question," Khyran continued after a moment of silence. "Where, exactly, should we keep her? And who's going to look after her?"

"I cannot answer that, Inquisitor. You have that authority."

"Yes, but I'm asking what you would recommend."

Solas's eyes fell on Cole. Cole looked back. In that moment, he felt the knots in his stomach again- the tight, twisting, taut feeling that made him dizzy and sick.

"I believe we have no better candidate than Cole." Said the Elf. "I am highly familiar with the Fade, like Cole, but he is different than I. He can sense her thoughts and feelings if she needs help, and he has already proven to be able to reason with her unlike the others could. Because she cannot speak, I believe only Cole can truly understand her."

Cole felt a rush of panic that quickened his pulse. He gulped at the air, searching for words, but words didn't come. He wanted to protest, to ask for help, to have more than one shoulder this responsibility, to not have the responsibility at all, but he didn't know how to say it. They needed his help. She needed his help. Why did he want to not help? Demons wanted to not help. They wanted to hurt. They were corrupted, they did what was wrong. He wanted to do what was right, he always wanted to help. That was him, that was Cole, the one who helped! To not help was to be corrupted from that purpose, to be a demon. He would not be tempted again!

So he swallowed back his protest, swallowed against the tightness in his throat and the pressure in his chest and rock in his lungs, and nodded.


	4. Varric: Rage

Not long after his meeting with Solas adjourned, His Inquisitorialness headed off with Ruffles and explained that he was going to start writing missives throughout the region about Feisty's disappearance. Chuckles had advised him not to mention the business about the Fade, but Varric didn't think Khy needed the reminder. The less people that knew she came out of a Rift, the better. And judging by all the unrelated work the Inquisitor undoubtedly had, Varric was fairly certain he wouldn't be seeing Khy's face again for a while.

Next came the issue of what, exactly, to do with Feisty in the meantime. It was hard not to notice the look on Cole's face when they had discussed his new responsibility. Poor kid looked like a cornered nug, standing there all stiff and wide-eyed. After giving Feisty one last inspection, Solas said he would prefer to stay and do some more research about her, if it was possible to find out anything else. Varric wasn't going to leave Cole to figure that out all by himself.

With that, Varric nudged Cole's arm and gave him an encouraging smile. "Come on, Kid. Let's show your new friend around."

"Show her to where…?"

"I don't know, Kid. Anywhere. Women's barracks, probably. I bet I can find some real clothes for her laying around somewhere. Khy might want his cloak back."

Of course, the kid's knees were all locked up and it took a few moments for him to remember how to use them. He shuffled forward and tried to get Feisty's attention. Though she had ignored Solas and Varric, himself, she perked up a little when she saw Cole. In his usual manner, Cole reached out and touched her arm. "Will you come with me?" He asked.

Varric wasn't sure if she understood or not, but at least she followed him when Cole turned and began to leave. She was nearly at his heels, breathing over his shoulder, looking around at Skyhold with a mixture of fascination and unease. Cole hurried on ahead, slipping down the stone stairs and out into the courtyard, where he failed to elude notice of several curious faces. Varric tried to wave them off as he followed Cole. "Move along. Nothing to see here."

When they arrived at the women's wing of the barracks, Cole nearly swung open a closed door in his haste. Varric snagged his arm. "Hold on, Kid. Remember what I taught you about manners?"

Cole stopped. "Oh. Sorry."

He knocked. In a few moments, someone opened the door. It was Cassandra. Her lips squeezed into an even thinner line than usual when she saw them, and Varric could see her jaw clench as their eyes locked. He winked.

"Good afternoon Cole. Varric." She said. "What happened to Cole's face? And is this the girl?"

"Sure is, Seeker. I've been calling her Feisty. Punched Cole black-and-blue, but I think it's all right now."

"Feisty." Cassandra echoed, deadpan. "You could have at least given her a real name, Dwarf."

"What? It  **is** a real name! And how about you use mine?" Varric responded in a mock offended tone. Then, he paused before growing more serious. "How are those other girls?"

It lightened Cassandra, at least a little. "I think they will be alright. They are very courageous for all they've gone through." Cassandra motioned over her shoulder with her thumb towards several more closed doors farther back in the barracks. "They are resting now."

"She needs clothes." Cole spoke up. "Do you have any?"

Cassandra eyed Feisty up and down. "She's very small… but I might be able to find something." Cassandra reached down to take Feisty's shoulder, probably to lead her inside, but the girl hissed and jerked away. She stumbled several steps behind Cole and peeked at Cassandra from over his shoulder. Cassandra heaved a sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"She doesn't know." Cole said. "She can't understand."

"Do you understand her?"

"I am trying."

"Will she follow me inside?"

Cole shook his head. "No. Not without me there."

Cassandra nodded. "I suppose it is alright, then. Come in."

She stepped aside, and Cole entered. Feisty followed close behind him, though always on the opposite side of him as Cassandra. Varric watched them as they left, looked over his shoulder, then shrugged and followed. He had never been in this part of Skyhold before and he didn't suppose he would ever have a reason to, but something told him it'd be best if he was there with Cole. The kid needed him around just as much as Feisty needed the kid.

Cassandra led them into a small room with a cot, dresser, bookshelf and armoire. The bookshelf was nearly bending under the weight of everything on it. In a corner, a mannequin stood dressed in armor with the Seeker symbol emblazoned on the breastplate. Varric realized it must be Cassandra's room, so he stood awkwardly at the doorway with his back to the frame. Cassandra didn't pay him any heed as she opened up dressers and examined the contents.

She tossed aside a few garments onto her cot, then lifted out a small, white vest and black leggings. "This will do," she said.

Cole tried to nudge Feisty over to Cassandra, but the girl wouldn't budge. "I need to give Inquisitor Khyran's cloak back." Cole told her desperately. The look on his face reminded Varric of a child who had been caught somewhere he shouldn't be. "I don't want to look if you're not wearing anything." Still, Feisty didn't move. "I'm going to close my eyes, then." Cole told her. "Cassandra is going to give you something new."

Varric couldn't help a grin, and he tried to hide it by placing his hand to his chin and feigning a thoughtful look at the ceiling. It was no secret that Cole had probably seen a lot of people naked, with his abilities to disappear and stay out of notice, but it was always with innocent intentions. Cole had never been one to see anything shameful about it until recently, and he never spied on anyone on purpose. The fact that he was so concerned about this meant he was learning. Learning to be human. Varric was proud of him for that, in a strange way.

So Cole closed his eyes, and Cassandra stepped forward, taking the Inquisitor's cloak off of the girl, then Cole's jacket. Varric had stopped looking and could only assume it was going smoothly, when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him. He turned and noticed a woman approaching. She was wearing Templar armor- one of the women from the Order that Khyran had graciously allowed to remain in the Inquisition.

She stopped when she saw Varric, and the Dwarf waved casually at her. She stiffened a little. "Is Ser Pentaghast here?"

"Sure is." Varric told her and stepped aside. The Templar skirted around Varric to the doorway, and Varric's gaze followed her inside. The girl was wearing the clothes now, and Cassandra was just lacing up the front end of her tunic.

"Ser Pentaghast, I have a report from-"

The girl's gaze snapped over her shoulder toward the woman in the doorway. Then, a white-hot flash exploded in the room. Varric shouted, started forward, too late. Someone cried "don't!" In moments, Varric's mind caught up with his eyes. Cole was on his knees, smoke sizzling from his chest. The girl was hyperventilating, thrashing in Cassandra's arms and growling. The Templar woman stared, completely dumbfounded, shocked into silence.

"Varric!" Cassandra growled. "I'm… keeping her magic contained- check Cole!"

Varric dropped to Cole's side. He knew as a Seeker, Cassandra could disrupt a Mage's powers. There was no time to worry about Feisty now. "What happened?!" He gasped, pulling Cole's arms away from his chest. His hands and fingers were twitching, red, raw. Bits of fabric on the front of his undershirt fell away into ashes as fabric burned aflame, and Varric swatted at it madly. By the time the fire was put out, he saw that Cole's chest was horribly burned. It looked like he had tried to stop the fire from hitting him with his hands before it swept over his body. Cole was shaking, gasping and choking. Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. Varric hurt for him- he had to do something!

"You'll be okay, Kid! I'll take you to see a healer!" Varric assured him, feeling the panic build in his throat. Kid looked horrible. He hadn't even seen a healer yet for the burns from earlier, but this? This was like someone had taken a torch to him.

"He… jumped in front of the fireball, I…" The Templar woman said from the doorway, backing away and shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I… didn't think-"

"I didn't know she was a Mage!" Cassandra barked. "She must have a hatred for Templars! You should have told me, Varric-!"

"-This is  **my** fault!?" Varric said.

"I knew nothing about her!"

"If it's anyone's fault, it's hers!" Varric yelled, trying to help Cole to his feet and glaring at the still-thrashing girl. "Look at what you did to him!  **Look**!" When Cole was standing on his feet again, teetering and sobbing, Varric stormed up to Feisty. Whatever paternal instincts he felt towards the girl were gone in his rage. He reached out and snatched her chin while Cassandra held her tighter. It was harder for her to thrash now.

"Apologize!" He hissed.

There was a fear, a rage, an uncomprehending chaos behind Feisty's wide, brown eyes. She wasn't looking at Varric or Cole. His grip tightened on her chin.

"Look at Cole and apologize!"

When she still didn't do anything, Varric drew back his arm, fully intending to hit her. But something snagged his arm- something wet and sticky and shaking. Varric saw Cole standing behind him, breaths hitching, grasping his wrist with an injured hand. "Don't… hurt her…" He managed through his sobs.

Varric allowed his arm to drop to his side and he released Feisty's chin. In that moment, the girl stopped thrashing and dropped her head. Her wild hair fell over her face, but Varric could hear her sobbing.

The Templar in the doorway said in a very small voice, "can I help?"

"Just go." Cassandra said through gritted teeth. "I will have your report later." The templar bowed out of the room and shuffled away, pinching at her nose. To Varric, Cassandra said, "take Cole to the healers. Now. I'll see to it that this mage is safely contained."

"Don't hurt her." Cole gasped. "Please."

"She won't be harmed." Cassandra assured him. "Go. Go with Varric."

Varric turned, placing a hand gingerly on Cole's back. "Come on, Kid." He headed for the door, but as soon as Cole was out of sight, Feisty screamed at the top of her lungs. Cassandra cursed. There was a thudding sound and Varric quickly turned back to the doorway. Feisty was digging her heels into the ground, thrashing more furiously than ever before, but Cassandra was yelling, "no! You're not allowed anywhere near him!"

"No, please, please, please don't hurt her!" Cole rushed back to the doorway and his voice added to the chaos. "Let her come- let her come! It's the only way,  **please**!"

When Cole returned to the room, the girl stopped thrashing and screaming and began crying again. Cassandra looked wildly between Varric and Cole. "She needs to be shackled and contained! I cannot allow her to go into the infirmary!"

"No, don't do that to her, please! Bring… ahgn!" Cole's voice cut off into a strangled cry of pain as he twisted inward where he stood, curling his blistered hands against his chest. He backed against the wall until his spine pressed against it and he slid down. His head dropped between his knees. He rocked and trembled. "Healer… please…! Help me… it hurts…!"

"You have to walk with me, Cole!" Varric urged desperately.

"No! I can't!"

Varric couldn't make Cole stand back up, he was in so much pain. Varric cursed. If Cole left this room, the girl would burst into hysterics, and Cassandra was right. It was too dangerous to bring her to the infirmary. "I'll get a doctor."

Varric rushed out of the barracks.


	5. Cole: Names

"Chaining her up and throwing her into the dungeons is a little extreme."

"Did you see what she did to him? She could've killed him!"

"She didn't mean to hurt Cole."

"Exactly. She meant to kill Lexia!"

"Look, Cassandra. She's scared. I don't know how long she's lived in the Fade, but I can only assume it was long enough to be a fish out of water here. We need to be patient and merciful."

"You're too forgiving, Inquisitor." Cassandra sighed. "But you have the authority here. What do you propose we do with her?"

"Templars have physical means to negate a mage's abilities, correct?"

"It involves enchanted manacles, but yes."

"There has to be another way."

They kept talking, but paying attention proved to be difficult. Cole fidgeted where he lay on Cassandra's cot, but he couldn't get comfortable. The flesh on his chest and hands protested when he moved and his skin felt stretched. The medication he was given helped the pain, but he still felt aches and flashes of it as he breathed. His hands and chest were bound in linens and it was hard to move his fingers. Beneath the bandages he could feel the blisters, thick and filled with fluid. He was told not to move too much so he wouldn't break them. They had left his shirt off- it was too burned to be worn anymore anyway. He felt exposed, but blankets made him feel too hot.

Feisty was sitting next to him in a wooden chair. Her head was lowered and he couldn't see her face through all her tangled black hair. Cole wanted to reach out and listen, try to find her thoughts, but everything else was too loud.  **He**  was too loud. He was so confused, so nervous, so hurt. He remembered crying when the fire hit him, but it wasn't just with pain. She hurt him very badly and all he wanted to do was help. It wasn't her fault, but he was still upset. Everyone expected him to know what to do to help her. When she became upset they blamed her for it, and Cole felt as if he failed somehow.

Even now, they only let her stay with him because she screamed and cried if they didn't. Cassandra could only disrupt magic for so long- she feared if she became too weak, Feisty would break free and burn down the barracks in her blind panic. The only way to keep her calm was to keep her with Cole. Not long after the healer had come with Varric, Khyran showed up too. They all had been arguing about what to do with Feisty, and all Cole could do was sit and listen. Talking hurt his throat.

So he thought. He thought about a lot of things. About Feisty, about himself, about what he could do. He realized, as he laid there absorbed in his own pain, that she was just like him. She reminded him of himself back at the White Spire so long ago. The only person who could see him was Rhys. He had no one, no one but Rhys who could understand him, so he clung to Rhys in his desperation for friendship. Rhys always tried to help him, even if he didn't know how.

And Cole remembered hurting Rhys, too. He got him into so much trouble. He almost got him killed. He never meant to drive away his only friend, but he did.

He couldn't be angry at Feisty anymore. He understood.

_Joy._

Cole paused. That wasn't his thought. His blue eyes fluttered open and he looked over at Feisty's face.  
 _  
My name is Joy. That's what the spirits call me._

Her thoughts weren't as easy to hear as the thoughts of other people. It felt more like ideas than voices. It was like water, flowing full with frantic feeling- Cole had to filter it, let it leave behind the excess and give him what was pure before he could really feel it. In order to feel feelings, people needed to need him. And Feisty needed him now more than ever before.

"Hello, Joy." Cole said. He didn't mean to whisper it, but it came out whispered. His throat was tight. "I'm Compassion."

He didn't know if she could understand his words or not. He felt she understood the intentions behind them, but not the words. If she did understand him, she only knew a little. Feisty- no, Joy was fidgeting now, pulling at her hair and crossing her legs in the seat. She lifted her head a little, so that Cole could see her face now. She was crying.  _You're the only one that makes sense. Everyone else is different._

"How long have you been in the Fade?"

Joy grimaced with confusion.

Cole closed his eyes. If she understood the question at all, time wasn't something he understood after he left the Fade either. It made a little more sense to him now, but he didn't think he could explain it to Joy. So he didn't try to. Talking hurt too much right now, anyway.

 _I'm sorry I hurt you. I like you. I didn't want to see you hurt._ Joy tugged herself up onto the chair, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her chest. Her chin dropped between her knees.  _Am I in trouble?_

"I know you didn't mean to. Don't feel bad." Cole tried to reach out and touch her, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. The gesture wasn't lost on her at least. She gave him a sad smile. Suddenly her gaze dropped to Cole's chest, then down lower still to his abdomen. She was looking at something, but Cole wasn't sure what. Her brown hand inched out towards him until it was resting on his belly, right above his navel. It was then that he realized she was touching a scar.

It was an ugly, stark-white scar that cut across his abdomen, and it had happened because he had been shot there, the wound sealed with heated metal. Cole rarely thought about what happened in the Deep Roads with Varric. It was only a few months ago, but it felt like a long time now. The memory hurt sometimes, but more important was the happiness it brought afterwards. The incident had brought Rhys back, and for this he associated the new scar on his stomach with that reconciliation, rather than the agonizing hours of pain he suffered in Varric's arms.

_Does it still hurt?_

"Sometimes, but only deep inside when I eat. It's not very bad anymore."

"Are you talking to her?" Cassandra's voice pierced the flow of Joy's thoughts like a knife and Cole could feel it sever. Joy jerked her hand off of Cole's belly and lowered her head again, retreating into silence. He wanted to go back into the flow, to feel her thoughts again, but he couldn't find it. He was lost on the current of emotion in the room, spilling out of Varric, Cassandra and Khyran where they stood nearby.

"I was trying to." Cole replied, eyelids drooping closed. He felt defeated.

"What was she saying?"

"Her name is Joy and she's sorry."

Cassandra and Varric seemed unphased, but Khyran smiled a little. "Joy. That's a pretty name."

"She said the spirits called her that."

"That would make sense. Spirits embody virtues, so I guess they thought she was joyful in the Fade." Khyran rubbed at his unshaven cheek. "She hardly seems joyful here, though."

"So, have you come to a decision, Inquisitor?" Said Cassandra.

Khyran was silent for several moments. Then, he finally spoke. "She communicated with Cole somehow. That proves that she can at least understand something. I wonder… Cole, could you explain to her that she's safe here and the Templars won't take her away?"

"I don't know. I could try."

"If we can be sure Joy understands that nothing in Skyhold will threaten her, I think she will be alright."

"But we can't just trust that assumption! Nor can we let her roam freely throughout the fortress!"

"There has to be a way to negate her magic without making her feel like a prisoner here." Khyran continued. "Surely you can forge something in the same manner as the manacles Templars use. Maybe a bracelet or a necklace. Something pretty that she wouldn't notice was disrupting her spellcasting."

"You wish for too much, Inquisitor. But if this is your command, I will see to it that our smiths create something of this nature."

Khyran nodded. "If Cole gave it to her as a gift, I expect she wouldn't feel like taking it off. It would give Skyhold's citizens assurance that she wouldn't set them on fire if they do something to startle her."

Cole didn't know why the notion bothered him, but it did. He felt the sick, twisting feeling in his gut again, though this one was sharper. Not only was the expectation great, but he felt like to do such a thing to Joy would be a betrayal of trust. Why would he want to give her chains disguised as a gift? He wanted to suggest a different way, but he didn't know what. Was there a different way to make sure Joy was safe without taking away part of her?

At least they weren't imposing Tranquility. If they thought that would be an option, Cole felt he would have a lot to say about it. As he listened to them talk, he saw Cassandra bow out of the room to head to the smithy. Varric and Khyran remained, now looking over at him, faces all worried and sad.

"How are you feeling, Kid?" Varric asked, crossing over the room towards him. As he passed where Joy was seated in the chair, she stiffened and scooted a few inches away from him. Cole felt Varric's hand on his brow.

"I'm fine." Cole replied.

"You think you can get up and walk? Healer said you could do that, right?"

"He doesn't want me to break the blisters."

"I guess you're staying in here, then. Cassandra better be okay with that. I'm just not sure what to do about the girl." Varric sighed.

"I don't think she's going to murder Cole in his sleep." Khyran said.

"Anything could happen. She could hurt him on accident again."

"Just… stay here and watch her until Cassandra gets back with that enchantment. I'll make sure no one else comes in here and startles her."

Varric sighed. "You're the boss."

Then, the Inquisitor was gone.

* * *

Hours passed. Not once did Cole find the flow of Joy's thoughts again. He wondered if it was because Varric's were too loud, and it wasn't just because of his own mind. He had been reading, and the written words of other authors crammed in with his own. The Dwarf had sat on the edge of Cassandra's cot, pulling books out of the nearby bookshelf at random and flipping through them. He'd scoff at what he said was 'dull literature', tossing them aside until he had found something unexpected among the stacks of printed pages.

The Dwarf had grinned so wide Cole could count his teeth. Then he realized that Varric was holding a copy of Swords and Shields, a romance novel penned by Varric Tethras himself. "I keep forgetting she's a fan. Maybe Cassandra should have a cameo in the next serial. What do you think, Kid?"

Cole blinked at him, not knowing how to answer. Of all the hurts he had felt within the minds of other people, romantic hurt was one of the most common. Lovers losing lovers, lovers hurting lovers, lovers wanting lovers- it was all over Skyhold, all over Val Royeoux, all over everywhere he went. Though Cole knew how people hurt because of love, he didn't really relate. It was so common, but so foreign. When he heard someone hurting about love, it was like he was trying to read a story so complex he could only understand every other word. He was missing something, and he never cared enough to learn.

If people were lonely, all they needed was to find a good friend. Cole had many good friends. There was Rhys and Evangeline, of course. He liked Varric, he liked the Inquisitor, he liked Solas, and he liked Dorian. The Iron Bull was nice, too, and Cassandra was warming up to him like a growing candleflame. He didn't even mind Vivienne, Blackwall or Sera, even though they didn't seem to like him very much. But, for some reason, many people couldn't settle for just a good friend. Cole just wasn't sure why. What made a romance? Some people liked being touched in different ways, but there was something more than just touching. There had to be something more than just touching.

So, when Varric asked him about Swords and Shields, Cole gave him a blank stare, then shrugged. "Cassandra misses him, so she reads your books to remind herself of what she lost. If she's reading about herself in a book she escapes to, it might be strange. Like there is two of her there."

"I suppose that's a… good point. I guess." Varric answered as he distractedly flipped through the book. "Still, I want to see the look on her face if she reads her name in here. I could do all sorts of shit with that." He chuckled to himself, grinning impishly. "What kind of character should I write for her? Someone with a stick shoved so far up their ass they sit crooked?"

"Why would a stick be shoved up-"

"It's a figure of speech. Don't take it literally, Kid."

"Speech doesn't have a figure."

"Okay, now you're just messing with me, aren't you?"

Cole kept his expression impassive, gaze drifting over to Joy. She was still sitting in the chair with her knees tugged up, gazing blankly at the wall. Just as he was about to say something to her, the door opened. Cassandra swept inside, a small box in her hand. When she came to the side of the cot, she asked Cole how he was feeling, then slipped the box to him. She placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "it's a necklace. I want you to give it to Feisty when you're ready."

"Her name is Joy."

"Honestly, Kid…" Varric said, putting down Swords and Shields and looking sideways at Cole. "The name I gave her is much more fitting."

Cassandra didn't disagree.


	6. Cole: Lies

Three days passed. Cole still hadn't given Feisty the necklace, so no one felt safe to leave them unsupervised. Especially Varric. The Dwarf was almost always present, and although Cole was grateful for his concern, he couldn't help but to feel smothered. Even though he was on his feet now, and the burns didn't hurt so bad, no one left him or Joy alone. He wasn't allowed to go to any of his favorite places for fear that Joy would hurt someone. He had overheard someone in the barracks saying that nearly everyone in Skyhold was aware of Feisty now, and had been instructed to avoid her as if she was a plague. Bringing her into the Herald's Rest or the great hall was out of the question.

Cole wasn't happy. He felt trapped and nervous and bored all at once. He wasn't used to feeling this way. In fact, he wasn't sure he ever ever felt them so strongly before. He always had something to do, someone to help, somewhere to be. As a spirit, that was especially true. But he was more like a person now, and being a person meant getting angry and bored. Varric had told him that when he had started pacing, then gave him a book to read. Cole didn't like reading, though. He didn't know enough words and learning was hard.

Now, Joy was his ball and chain and no one trusted her anywhere. And despite the fact that his friends kept telling him to go ahead and give her the necklace, he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't feel right about it. If he wanted to give someone a gift, he would want it to come from his heart. And he certainly didn't want to take her magic away from her.

That morning, he was seated on the ramparts, turning the box over in his hands. Joy wasn't far behind, watching the clouds and remaining silent as always. He hadn't heard her thoughts since the first time. He wondered if it was because he didn't want to. He opened the box and looked at the necklace. It was a thin, silvery chain bearing a small sapphire pendent. The way it caught the sunlight make it sparkle, and for the first time, Cole thought it looked pretty.

He was just closing the box when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder at an approaching Varric. Normally Cole would be happy to see him, but now he just felt annoyed. He had hoped Varric would have let him have the morning in peace.

"Hey, kid. Why the sour face?" Something in Varric's voice told Cole that he knew exactly why.

Cole just shrugged and gazed out at the snow-capped mountains which lined the horizon.

Varric leaned against the ramparts nearby and didn't speak for several moments. Then, as a gentle breeze prickled against his skin, he heard the Dwarf begin: "Remember when you were scared of being bound?"

Cole blinked. He had no idea where Varric was going with this. "Yes."

"You were scared that you wouldn't be safe, so you asked to be bound by Solas. You were willing to give up your free will so you wouldn't risk hurting anyone. It was really brave of you, Cole. But we found you a safe alternative."

Cole looked down, tracing lines on the wall with his finger. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.

"I know you feel like it might be wrong to give Joy that necklace." Varric continued. "But… do you think, if she understood it would make her safer, that she would be willing to take it to be safe? Just as you were willing to be bound?"

Cole fidgeted. "I don't know. I felt okay about asking to be bound because I made the choice. If I give her this necklace, she wouldn't be choosing."

"You understand her, Cole. I think she'd understand you. Can you make that choice for her, to make her safe?"

Cole reached up and tugged down the brim of his hat, resisting the urge to groan. Everything hurt his head. He didn't know what was best. If Joy couldn't choose for herself what she wanted, if she couldn't understand anyone or be understood, was it really his place to choose for her? All his friends expected him to do this, but he couldn't. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do or not.

Varric seemed to understand his frustration. The Dwarf patted his back. "Listen, Cole. It's been three days now, and the Inquisitor and I have been talking…"

Cole detected something ominous in his voice and tensed. He released the brim of his hat and looked over his shoulder at Varric with drooping eyes.

"We really don't think it's good for Joy to stay in Skyhold if no one feels safe around her, and Khy doesn't want to lock her up in the dungeon for something that isn't even her fault." Varric began carefully. "If we don't find a way to make her safe and trustworthy soon… he's going to have to take her away."

"Take her away…?" Cole murmured. "Where?"

"Since the Circle of Magi fell apart, some Mages have been rebuilding communities across Thedas. There are still a lot of gifted Mages who need a safe place to practice their arts. Khyran's found one of them and he's going there soon to check it out, see if it's a good place for her and that they'll treat her well."

"But… what about me?"

"What about you, Cole?"

"She likes me… she needs me. I'm the only one she understands…"

Varric sighed heavily. "…You… don't have to stay in the Inquisition, Cole. You never did. If you want to leave… you can." Varric sounded nervous when he said it. Cole knew why, felt his thoughts. Varric didn't want him to leave.

And Cole didn't want to, either. He liked the Inquisition. He felt useful here, helpful. It gave him purpose. But if Joy was taken away from him, he knew she would be unhappy. Now that he knew Khyran was planning to take her away if she wasn't safe, he felt more pressure than ever. Cole grabbed his hat again and pulled it down far below his eyes.

Varric patted his back, his large hand pressing gently above his scapulae. "Just… think about it, Kid. We're not trying to hurt anyone. We're just trying to do what we think is best for her."

"I know." Cole said in a breath. "Me too."

* * *

Cole made a decision, and Varric let him go without following.

He brought Joy with him down to the pond not far from Skyhold. He went here often by himself when things were quiet and no one needed him. Sometimes it was nice to stick his feet in the water and watch the little fish dart around the rocks. Sometimes he would lay on his back in the grass and watch the trees sway above him. Other people knew about the pond too. People came to fish here, or take a boat out to the deep water. Today, however, it was quiet and still. Cole and Joy were alone.

It felt a little different now, out here with Joy. He felt nervous, scared of what he was about to do. But Skyhold was gone now, as were all the prying eyes and uncomfortable glances. He was truly alone with her now, for the first time since she had arrived. As he walked along the pond's shore with her, shoes in his hands and cool water at his soles, he caught something familiar along the currents of thought.

It was the first time he heard her feelings in three days.

_I like it here._

Joy reached over to take Cole's free hand, her fingers weaving between his. He held her hand before, but this was the first time she had done it to him. For some reason, he felt the twisting feeling in his gut again, and he found it difficult to take her hand with confidence. His fingers refused to tighten their hold on her hand, so he just let her hold it as he kept walking. His eyes darted from the treetops, to the lakeside, to the water at his feet, to the grass, anywhere but her face. Why did she make him feel this way?

She didn't even notice. She walked along, swinging his arm a little, a slight bounce in her step. She hadn't seemed this happy to him before, and if he hadn't been accosted by that odd feeling in his stomach, he would have been happy, too. He did smile, though, but it didn't feel right on his lips. His own thoughts were too loud, he struggled to hear hers among the cacophony of worry and confusion he created in himself.

_That fortress with all the people. It has a long, sad story. It's been around a very long time._

"You know about it?" Cole asked.

_People leave a lot of memories. I don't see them on this side. But I used to see a lot of memories about the fortress._

"Do you miss the Fade?"

_What is a Fade?_

It was the first time that Joy had ever showed any sign of comprehending Cole's words, and he stopped walking, finally looking over at her face.

"You understand me?"

Joy stared at him for a few moments, then lowered her head.  _Some words are too big._

"But you know what I am saying?"

_Sometimes._

Cole's pulse quickened. He couldn't tell if it was excitement or fear. How much could she understand? How much did she know? Was it possible to tell her she was safe at Skyhold? Was it possible to learn more about her? For several moments, all Cole could hear was the gentle lapping of the water. Then, he dropped his shoes, reached out and took her other hand.

"You are safe at Skyhold with my friends. Do you know that?"

Joy stared back at him, and the pleasant expression she wore shifted to uncertainty. Cole continued, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"The woman in the scary armor. The firey sword symbol. She was a Templar. Was that why you were frightened?"

 _Templar. Templar, Templar, Templar. That name is bad. A lot of souls and dreams are fear. Mages are being killed by them._  
  
"They're not all bad." Cole said. "I used to think they were. I… I was a Mage once, and I was killed by Templars. I mean, the old Cole. The Cole before I became Cole, cut, crippled and crying-"

_I don't understand._

Cole sighed and shook his head at his own foolishness. He wasn't talking like a person. He thought he was getting better about that. "Sorry. I meant to tell you that I understand how you feel about the Templars. Most of them hurt mages. But the ones in Skyhold are good now. Inquisitor Khyran let them stay to help us. None of them are going to hurt you."

Joy stared uncomprehendingly.  _That is a lot of words._

"Sorry. Sorry…" Cole sighed. He released her hands, then placed them on her shoulders and leaned forward a little so he could look closely in her eyes. He needed to say just what she needed to hear, what he could understand. Something simple. Something that would help. "You're safe now. I promise."  
 _  
But there are so many Templars there._

"And Mages too. There are a lot of Mages just like you. They're safe."

When she didn't reply, her thoughts lost in a swirl too convoluted for Cole to voyage, he lowered his hands. His mind swam. Should he do it? Yes. He already decided. He told Varric he was going to. There was no turning back now. He pulled the box out of his pocket. "This… this is going to make you safe." He said, presenting the box to her and opening it. "If you wear it… nothing bad will happen."

It felt like horrible deceit and it tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was at its heart. He knew how he framed it, how it must sound to her. That the necklace would protect  **her**. But it was really the other way around.

Joy squinted at the necklace in the box. She didn't seem to know what it was, so Cole took it out and showed it to her.

"Can I put it on you?"

_What is it?_

"A gift. It goes over your head. Here, I'll show you."

So he slipped the chain over her head, bringing it down until the pendent rested above her clavicle. She reached up to touch it, a finger tracing over the glittering surface of the gem. Then, she smiled. It was small at first, but then it grew and grew until her teeth were showing and her eyes were twinkling.

_It's so pretty! Is it really for me?_

"Yeah."

She laughed in a voice so light and mirthful it tickled Cole's spine. Then, she jumped forward and threw her arms over his shoulders. Cole's arms shot up to catch her, but his heel snagged against a stone and he tripped, falling onto his bum into the shallow water with a great splash. Joy didn't seem to notice. She was still laughing, hugging him tight, her legs encircling his waist. Once the shock of being on his bum and waist-deep in water wore off, he began to laugh, too. He returned the hug, nestling his head over her shoulder, and for a time, he felt giddy.

But, moments later, a sinking feeling grew in his stomach, suffocating his happiness and leaving him feeling rotten to his core.

He couldn't shake the fear that he had just betrayed her, and she didn't even know it.


	7. Joy: Music

Courage was always the hardest.  
  
Joy remembered running through endless mountains with Vigor, sitting in quiet contemplation for untold lengths of time with Wisdom, and helping Justice exact judgement upon the demons who dared tread near. Patience was difficult, Peace easily grasped, but Courage was impossible. Looking Courage in the face had always been like gazing into the eyes of a hungry lion and knowing you had nowhere to run. Paralyzing, petrifying fear had grasped her muscles like ice and she could do nothing more than hold her breath and wait for Courage to leave.  
  
Wisdom had always told her that a being was comprised only of two things: their perfection, and their imperfection. It was too easy for Wisdom to become Pride, Vigor to become Sloth, Courage to become Terror, Compassion to become Despair. But Wisdom could not become Courage, and Compassion could not become Vigor. Therefore, Joy needn’t worry that her nature excluded her from certain strengths. She needn’t worry, so long as she remained her perfection: Joy.  
  
But Joy never felt like a perfect being, and though the other spirits didn’t treat her any differently than they treated each other, some things simply couldn’t be ignored. She required sustenance that they did not need, and when her needs reached out into the shifting air, it often presented her food, water, and shelter. She never understood why, but knew it must be important. Filling her body with food left her with a nostalgic feeling, like a dream she couldn’t quite remember, but knew it was important.   
  
She grew, too. Her body changed, so slowly she rarely noticed. But the spirits remained the same. They never changed, unless they became their imperfection. It rarely happened, and thus Joy’s friends and companions remained the same, her unchanging and consistent guides.   
  
But once, with piercing suddenness, something did change. It changed when the music did. What was once an ever-present thrumming, like a heartbeat in a womb, became loud and dizzying. It hurt throughout Joy’s body, and it hurt her friends. Something tore into her home, splitting it open like a shell. And the more holes there were, the louder and more chaotic the music became. Some of her friends were pulled out, driven mad, and they became their imperfections as they plummeted towards the unknown. Even those that weren’t her friends, she feared for.  
  
It was Courage she chased after through the hole. She saw the imperfection upon Courage’s face as it staggered to oblivion, succumbing to Terror. She had reached out, in a burst of panicked hope, to try and pull him back… and then, everything went white, and cold, and she could not see, she could not hear, she could not think.  
  
Everything else had been a blur since then. This world was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar. The people in this world called hers the Fade, though the bald one sometimes called it Beyond. She didn’t like either name for it. Her world was simply Home. This one had so many names she wasn’t sure which it was. She didn’t care if it was called Ferelden, The Inquisition, Thedas, Orlais, or the Frostback Mountains-- people in this world were far too specific. To her, this world was simply Not Home.  
  
And Courage was still the hardest. Not Home was scary, full of scary people and scary faces, all looking at her with indecipherable expressions. It felt like they all wanted to throw her as far as possible, or stick her somewhere dark and forgotten and pretend she wasn’t there. She wanted to tell them that she would leave if she knew how. They had been accommodating her so far, but she knew they were talking about her because they thought she couldn’t understand. Some of them called her unkind things, but she couldn’t be bothered. At least some of them seemed kind. One of the kinder ones was the skinny man with the beard and brown eyes.  
  
Last night, he had given her an extra cot in the room where the nice boy in the hat stayed. He had more than one name. He had a whole lot of names, come to think of it. Shy Khy, Khyran, Inquisitor, Herald, Andraste’s Chosen, Your Worship- why were people in Not Home so obsessed with names? She had resolved to simply call the skinny man with the beard “Key”. When she looked at his hand, she got the impression of looking through a keyhole into a room full of Home, so close yet firmly locked away.  
  
The only person who didn’t seem wholly interested in getting rid of her was the nice boy in the hat. People called him Cole, but he had called himself Compassion too. She had known before he told her. If anything felt like Home to her in this world, it was him. It might have only been a piece of him, but it was still there, buried somewhere beneath the layers of Not Home that dressed him in flesh. She felt his presence in her thoughts like pinpricks, always stronger when he was calm and quiet. 

Since he gave her the present, she felt calmer. Not Home felt a little less scary now, but only if he was around. Now that the people here seemed less wary of her, questions began to spring to her mind harder than ever. She had been so swept up into the confusion and terror of Not Home, she had completely forgotten to investigate what had happened to her and her friends. She wanted nothing more than to go back Home. How many of her friends had been pulled through to imperfection? Did all of her friends change when they fell through the hole? She was worried about Wisdom and Vigor. And as much as Cole was kind to her here, she did not truly want to stay.

  
It was the day after Cole had given her the necklace, and Joy felt restless as she sat upright in the tiny cot, pushing blankets back and hopping to her feet. She knew what she wanted to do. The hard part was making sure Cole understood. Thinking in a way he could understand was hard enough- she didn’t want to attempt to speak the way he spoke yet, even though she could understand some of it.

Striding over to where Cole slept nearby, she reached out and shook his shoulders. His eyes opened beneath his messy blond hair, pale, bleary and dark-rimmed. He sat up and looked at her, muttering something she didn’t understand. She fidgeted, her hands reaching up to twist at the locket around her neck.  
  
Cole looked over at her and said something again. His voice was tired and kind, but she didn’t understand it.  
  
 _I want to go Home. Can you help?_  
  
Cole squinted at her. She wondered if he heard her. She kept thinking it, over and over again, trying to give the thought substance. Eventually he seemed to catch her thoughts as recognition crossed his features, but there was something else there, something indecipherable.  
  
“You mean you want to go back to the Fade?”  
  
There was that word again. _Yes. Can you help?_  
  
Cole’s expression was still unreadable to her. His eyebrows were all scrunched up and there was something sad in his eyes, but his lips were all bunched up and his jaw taut. “But… you just got here. I mean, back here.”  
  
Joy didn’t understand what the problem was. _I want to go back home._  
  
“Don’t you want to… don’t you want to learn where you came from?”  
  
That didn’t make any sense at all. _I know where I came from. There was a big hole and I fell out. I want to go back through the hole. Back home._  
  
Cole fidgeted. “You aren’t a spirit. You’re an Elf. You were-” and he said something here she did not understand, “you must have” another strange word, “somewhere. You’re almost Cole’s,” another strange word, “mine, I mean.”

Joy exhaled all at once in a huff, rocking up and down on her heels. This was infuriating. She didn’t understand half of what he said, and the bits she did understand were confusing. _I don’t care if I’m a spirit or an Elf or anything. I want to go Home._  
  
Cole said a lot of those strange words again all at once. He, too, seemed to be getting frustrated. He was sitting on the edge of his bed now, leaning forward with a pleading in his face.   
  
Joy gripped at the frazzled tangles of her dark hair. _I don’t know what you’re saying!_

Cole closed his eyes, as if steeling himself. Then, he scooted even closer to Joy so that his bum barely touched the edge of his bed. He reached up to take her hands and she let him. His fingers were long and bony. She could see dirt caked beneath his cracked fingernails, little bruises and cuts on his palms, white lines where he normally wrapped them up in cloth. They were so warm, so real. As she gazed fondly down at them, the frustration in Joy’s chest lifted away. She squeezed Cole’s hands in hers and looked up into his eyes.  
  
“The people in this world… they’re,” he said that word she didn’t understand, then he said it again, very slowly. “Born. Do you know what it means?”  
  
Joy shook her head.  
  
“Well…” Cole fidgeted uncomfortably. Color came to his cheeks, as if he was embarrassed about something. Joy didn’t understand why. “Two people can make another person… a baby.”  
  
 _I know what a baby is. I see them sometimes, dreaming. They’re made?_  
  
“Yes. Two people make them together. You were made like that. Inquisitor Khyran wants to figure out if he can find… those two people. They’re called parents. He thinks you ended up in the Fade on accident and your parents are looking for you. Or family. Do you know what a family is?”  
  
It was so very hard to understand and Joy had difficulty taking it in. Two people made her? Two people from this world? And they wanted to find her? It didn’t mean anything to her. The only home she had was far away, and she didn’t care if parents she never knew wanted her back.  
  
 _I still want to go Home._

Cole gave her that look again- that scrunched up look that would have been sad if it weren’t for the tight jaw. His grip tightened on her hands. “You were born here, Joy.” He said another thing she didn’t understand. “They hurt because you’re gone. You can make them happy if we find them.”  
  
 _What is that word?_  
  
Cole blinked. “What word?”  
  
 _You said, someone loves me. Loves. What is that word?_  
  


Cole fell oddly silent, and he drew back a little, his grip on her hand slackened. He didn’t seem sad or upset or angry. As Joy waited for an explanation on this foreign word, Cole remained silent, looking about as confused as she felt.  
  
“It… means a whole lot of things.” He began. “D… different things, in different situations. I don’t really know how to explain it. I think… it’s just what you feel when you really like someone.”  
  
Joy though his explanation was weak and didn’t help much, but she accepted it. Now, from what she understood, it seemed she had parents, and her parents really liked her and would be sad if she was gone. But if she had been gone so long, did it even matter? Did it really matter what people she didn’t even know felt about her?  
  
 _I still want to go Home. She repeated, insistent._   
  
Cole fell silent for some time. His hands felt somewhat slick in hers now, and she realized he was sweating.  
  
“Will you stay a little while longer? Just in case we find out about your family…?”   
  
_When will you take me Home?_  
  
“I…” Cole swallowed. “I guess… Inquisitor Khyran would know. I don’t. I’m sorry.”  
  
Joy conceded, slipping her hands out of his and crossing the room towards the doorway. She didn’t know if she felt frustrated or hopeless. Everything he said confused her. _I’ll talk to Key, then._  
  
“Key?”  
  
But Joy was already out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Key wasn’t here.  
  
When she looked for him, Cole had followed, and the tired man in the furry coat told her that Key was away on “Inquisition business”. Joy turned and left the room in a momentary burst of frustration, only to find her pace slowing to a halt as she left the keep. Everything drained out of her until she felt empty, lost, and miserable.  
  
Was there truly no way to go back home?   
  
Her hands went up to finger the locket at her neck, her mind cycling through every possibility of what she could do next. She could leave, look for a way to get back Home by herself, but as soon as the prospect crossed her mind, she beat it away. She couldn’t face this unknown world alone. Courage was always hardest. She could try and convince Cole to come with her, but she didn’t think he would. It seemed her only option was to wait for Key to return from “Inquisition business.”   
  
She felt Cole’s hand on her shoulder and she looked up at his face. He was looking a little sad.   
  
“I know you’re upset. It’s okay. None of this is your fault.”  
  
Joy didn’t know what to think about that.  
  
“Why don’t we go to the tavern?” Cole asked. “Sometimes there’s music. I don’t think anyone will be scared of you.”  
  
Joy didn’t know what the tavern was like. She knew people got food there, but all of her meals had been brought to her. She hadn’t really been allowed to go inside the building. The fact that Cole was suggesting it now gave her pause.  
  
“Is it okay?”  
  
Cole nodded. With an encouraging nudge, he led her down the great stone staircase to the tavern perched nearby. Joy could hear the mottled chatter of patrons when Cole opened the door, and she hesitated. Cole stood in the open door and beckoned for her, but she still didn’t budge. Her knees locked up. She did not know why she was suddenly so frightened. Even Cole’s smile didn’t help.   
  
Then, she heard the music.  
  
“Empress of fire, in the reign of the lion… eclipsed in the eye of the empire of we Orlesians…”  
  
All at once, her trepidation turned to longing. The music wafted towards her, as if carried on the wind. Someone was singing, drawing her in. This music was different than Home. Rougher, tangible, but still music. Joy drifted past Cole into the room. All was thick, brown wood- the lights were dim, the room lit with the orange glow of candles and shafts of sunlight through scarce windows.   
  
A woman with an instrument stood nearby, her head tilted back and her eyes closed.  Joy watched her singing, mesmerized. There were eyes boring into her all throughout the tavern, but she didn’t care. Cole asked her a question, but she hardly heard him. Just as she was about to say something to the singing woman, she heard another voice, a deeper voice, somewhere below her.  
  
The short man from earlier was suddenly at her side. He wore red silks that showed a lot of his chest. “I thought I saw you come in here. You sure it’s alright?”  
  
“I’m hungry. She probably is too.” Cole said.   
  
The short man looked a little nervous, but he nodded regardless, giving Joy’s arm a little pat. “Alright, alright. You two sit. I’ll find you something to eat.”   
  
Cole led Joy to a table and they sat down. Joy folded her hands in her lap, immediately turning her attention back to the singer. The woman with the instrument was so absorbed in the music, she didn’t even appear to notice that anyone was watching her at all. Cole sat down in a chair next to her, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve.  
  
Joy was wrenched out of her thoughts by a sudden thud. The short man put a tray in front of her, complete with a steaming bowl of soup. Joy didn’t pay it a second glance. There was a rhythm in the tavern. A thrumming, like a heartbeat. With every strum of the instrument, someone tapped a foot, patted a thigh, bobbed a head. The minstrel was playing faster now, singing louder. The song morphed, grew in strength.   
  
Then, she saw it. Someone in the back of the room was on their feet. It was a woman, her hair pulled up in a bun, her skirts flowing around her ankles as she dragged a man out of a chair. She was holding his hands tight, spinning him around, pulling him this way and that. They were laughing, feet clipping and bouncing against the floor with the music.  
  
Overcome with a swelling in her heart, Joy pushed back her chair. She grabbed Cole’s wrist and pulled him up.   
  
“Wait, what are we- whoa!”  
  
She laughed, spinning him around and he stumbled. He nearly knocked over his chair with his ankle. Out of the corner of her eye, Joy saw the short man start towards them, alarmed, but he stopped. As Joy skipped on her feet, trying to spin Cole along with the music, he was laughing. His feet were clumsy and made both of them stumble. Cole couldn’t dance at all, but he was still laughing.   
  
His happiness at her spontaneity filled her heart and gladdened her. So Joy grasped his hands tight, guiding him along with flowing footsteps, her wild hair tossed around like smoke behind her. It got in her eyes, between their reddened faces, but she didn’t care. Soon, almost everyone in the tavern was clapping in beat of the music.   
  
For the very first time since Joy had come to this world, it felt almost like Home.


End file.
